Honda Point: A Naval Disaster, A Community Response

By Nick Wieman
HRNM Educator

In our previous blog, we explored what led up to the tragedy at Honda Point. One Navy officer’s desire to set a new cruising speed record met with navigational complacency and stubbornness resulting in an entire destroyer group relying upon one ship’s inaccurate dead reckoning measurement to navigate treacherous surf and thick fog. We saw its devastating consequence: the worst peacetime loss of ships in U.S. Navy history, with nearly an entire destroyer group dashed against the rocks of Honda Point and the loss of twenty-three Sailors. We also saw its immediate legal consequences: the largest courts martial of officers in Navy history. The squadron’s commander, Captain E. H. White, and flagship USS Delphy’s captain, LCDR Donald Hunter, were ultimately held accountable for the tragedy and had their Navy careers effectively ended.

Ships on the rocks: USS Chauncey, Young, Woodbury, Fuller, Delphy, Nicholas, and S.P. Lee (NHHC)

While the loss of twenty-three Sailors is tragic, it’s undeniable that the night could have gone much worse for the initial survivors. Unless they were the Sailors fortunate enough to have been pulled from the surf by the surviving squadron’s lifeboats, hypothermia, blood loss, and plain exhaustion all could have claimed more lives by the time they reached the safety of the bluff. Instead, an entire community rose to the challenge posed by fate late that night and came to assist however they could.

Running along this stretch of desolate California coastline was the Southern Pacific Railroad’s “Coast Route,” the primary rail line connecting San Francisco and Los Angeles. While this line was well-traveled, seeing roughly a dozen trains each day passing through Honda Point, Honda Point had no passenger station and only a small freight platform on the other end of a trestle bridge spanning a small canyon. This platform was used almost exclusively by workmen from the Southern Pacific, performing regular maintenance on the railway.

On the night of September 8, fourteen workmen turned in for the night in a little mesa house near the cliffs when the destroyers collided with the rocks, sounding like an explosion on the beach. When they ran to the cliff face to investigate, they could barely make out what appeared to be a destroyer (USS Chauncey) on the rocks below, due to the thick fog. Even through the howling wind and surf, however, section foreman John Giorvas recalled that you could hear “[voices] in every direction calling for help…’God, mother, father, help me.”

Giorvas and the crew wasted no time. Giorvas ran back to the section house and telephoned his supervisor, W. J. Maes, at general section HQ in Surf. Maes, in turn, began sending off urgent telegraphs to rail dispatchers and public officials in San Luis Obispo and Los Angeles, informing them of the situation and requesting whatever aid could be spared.

While they waited for help to arrive, the work crew aided the Sailors with the material on hand. Using scrap wood and railroad ties, the railroad work crew constructed a pair of large bonfires on the cliff, warming the rescued Sailors and shining as a beacon for those still caught in the surf. Joined by ranch hands drawn to the commotion, some of the work crew rigged up makeshift breeches buoys along the cliffs and shot them toward Sailors still trapped on their ships. Fishing boats joined lifeboats from the surviving squadron in searching for Sailors in deeper waters, while the men on the shore waded through the surf to pull Sailors out. John Giorvas would spend over four hours helping Sailors in the freezing waters and would acquire the nickname “Honda John” for his heroism.

Left: Sketch of breeches buoy in action; Right: Captain John G. Church and Sailors appraising the situation at Honda Point from the bluffs. Note the breeches buoy assembly in the background. (USNI)

It wasn’t long before word filtered out to the nearest small town of Lompoc that ships had run aground on Honda Point, and the community snapped into action. The small town’s only two doctors, Dr. Heiges and Dr. Kelliher arrived on the first emergency train around midnight and set up in one of the mesa houses. Perhaps most prominent in Sailors’ recollections of their time on the cliffs was the welcome presence of “Ma” Atkins, who spent the day making hot coffee and sandwiches for the Sailors and would later be described as Honda Point’s own “angel of mercy.”

Ma Atkins and locals came out to help the stranded Sailors. (Charles Lockwood and Hans Adamson)

While the U.S. Navy made efforts to salvage the destroyers, a combination of the extensive damage they suffered and the apparent incompetence of local salvage teams led to all destroyers being written off as lost and sold for scrap at just over $1,000. Salvage teams removed ammunition and fuel, but otherwise allowed the ships to be swallowed by the surf. Almost a hundred years of erosion in rough waters have since turned the destroyers into “pulverized metal reefs,” virtually unrecognizable as former Navy vessels.

Secretary of the Navy Kenneth Braithwait visits the Honda Point Memorial on Vandenberg SFB (Nellis.af.mil)

Today, Honda Point lies within the borders of Vandenberg Space Force Base, where a small memorial plaque marks the site of the disaster. Off base, a portion of the propeller and ship’s bell from USS Delphy was salvaged and placed outside the Veteran’s Memorial Building. Finally, the Lompoc Mural Society commissioned a large mural depicting the incident, prominently featuring Arthur Peterson in the act of swimming between the USS Chauncey and the capsized USS Young, bringing the rope that would serve as a lifeline to the Sailors trapped aboard the vessel.

Left: Honda Point Memorial outside Veterans Memorial Building; Right: Lompoc Mural Society's mural depicting Arthur Peterson and USS Chauncey (HMDB.org/lompocrecord.com)